


Call Me!

by infectedscrew



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, minor injury, these losers tip-toe around each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 06:51:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6792010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infectedscrew/pseuds/infectedscrew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt - "Call Me"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Me!

There was nothing about Gotham to even remotely suggest ‘peaceful night’. Even when major criminals decided to take the night off, something new and horribly exciting had to pop up. Which was why Jason Todd knew that something was going to go wrong on the first night he’d had off in weeks.

The light night television was funny in it’s own way. The beer was cool in his mouth and pleasant in his brain. Traffic sounded normal outside his apartment window. Everything was peaceful.

It was setting Jason’s teeth on edge.

He didn’t realize he was glaring at the television screen until his face started to hurt. With a grumble, he took a massive gulp of his drink. “What is wrong with me?” He muttered once his mouth was clear.

Before he could get an answer someone pounded on his front door. It was not a gentle tap of a neighbor asking for sugar. Nor was it the harsh, fury of a drug-lord scorned. It was someone who needed help, right at that moment but didn’t want anyone else to know.

Jason sprang out of his seat, practically tripping over himself to answer. Finally something was happening! No more shitty commercials. Still he had enough sense to pause by the door, slipping out his gun. He pressed against the wood panelling.

“There is a password, you know,” he called through the door.

If he focused enough he could hear the faint laboured breathing before the visitor managed to reply.

“I do not have time for this, Jason.”

Jason blinked, not expecting the voice at all. “Replacement..? What’re you…” He yanked open the door and was greeted with a sight that made his stomach churn. “What the shit, dude?”

Tim glared at him, as best as he could around a swollen cheek and split lip anyway. His suit was shredded, but it didn’t reveal much apart from more blood and bruised skin. The amount of effort it was taking to keep him on his feet must have been impressive, considering how much he was swaying.

Despite past grievances, Jason lurched forward. He caught Tim in his arms, disturbed by how light he felt.

“When was the last time you ate, bud?” He asked as he carefully manoeuvred the smaller man inside to the threadbare couch.

“I don’t know. Yesterday, I guess,” Tim replied, jaw clicking around the words in a way that didn't sound natural.

Jason frowned. “Eating habits aside, what happened to you? Get in a board room fight?”

Tim shook his head just slightly. “No. Old rivals.” He leaned against the cushions. “Can you… get me a kit?”

“And what, let you deal with this on your own? I don’t think so.” Jason slid his gun back into it’s holster before moving into the dingy bathroom to find a kit. He plopped back down in front of Tim. Ignoring all protests, he started peel away the ruined business suit.

It was a slow process to getting Tim cleaned and wrapped.

“I ask again, what happened?” Jason asked as he set to work patching up Tim's split lip.

“I’ll tell you again, old rivals,” Tim answered, huffily. He would have looked suitably annoyed if he didn’t look so pathetic.

Jason snorted. “Sure. I doubt chess club gets this aggressive. Why all the way out here, anyway? And why me?” He continued his barrage of questions until Tim gave in, too exhausted to fight back or ignore it.

“I was out here to open a new youth center. The rivals were for my father. Drake Enterprises did not go down well and I am paying for it. And you because you were the closest.”

Jason quieted and nodded. “Makes sense.” He looked up at Tim. “You owe me though,” he said once he’d finished.

“Owe you..?” Tim repeated, seconds away from passing out.

Jason nodded, gently moving Tim to lay down. “Sure do. You came to my apartment, used up my med. kit and bled all over my couch.”

Tim sighed, eyes closing. He frowned. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Nope. Expect a call from me later,” he said just before Tim was lost to the world.


End file.
